Benefits
by Hapkido9Chick
Summary: A confused apprentice makes a huge mistake with an emotionally-unstable trooper. Little do they both know that their chance, drunken encounter could result in the unfolding of galactic events that are bigger than both of them.
1. Chapter 1

** Authors Note: I've said before that I don't write romance, but for emphasis, I'll say it again: **I don't write romance. **So I'm not sure how this fic popped out of my brain and onto paper, but I'm content with the mystery. I tried not to make this too graphic, but it got a little bit steamy by my standards, so younglings be warned. This is a pretty short piece, but I have possible plans to continue, if I still feel inspired.

Disclaimer: As much as I wish I did, I don't.

**Benefits**

_My Master would be so ashamed._

She tried to push the thought away, but it managed to force its way into her head with each kiss the man placed on her neck.

This was singularly the most awful, terrible, amazing, _wonderful_, thing she had ever done...and she despised herself for it. She had started the night out on a very clear, cut-and-dry mission: get in, gather information, and get out.

_Get out. _Somehow, that stage of the plan had gotten botched. Somehow, between the shots of Ale that she didn't know the name of and the overwhelming flash of lights and the booming music and the press of his skin against hers, things had gotten complicated.

_Complicated, and yet so simple, _she thought wryly, running a hand through her matted, sweat-soaked hair. She had reverted to her most basic instincts – she had given in to her emotions, to her lust, to her passion. Once those desires – and copious amounts of alcohol – had invaded her system, she allowed them to overtake her.

And without even putting up the slightest fight.

She was beginning to understand how that murderous Skywalker had fallen to the dark side. _He probably didn't realize it was happening until it hit him. And by then, it was too late. _

Skywalker was a weak fool. And so was she. She wanted to hate herself, but the way this man beside her was placing his kisses and the way his rough hands were exploring her body...she wouldn't mind being a weak fool for the rest of her life.

She grabbed a fistful of tangled sheets, breathing out a swear because she didn't know his name. _How did I get here? _How did she get into this room, with her legs enveloping the enemy and the scent of sweat and booze and spent lust tainting the air?

He was doing something new now; something atrocious and startlingly fantastic, and she arched her back, blonde locks rippling, the green of her eyes clashing with the brown darkness in his and the surprise in them was as raw as the challenge. He hadn't said much, – in point of fact, he hadn't said _anything _since he'd dropped her savagely in his bunk – save for the occasional, primal groan and for that much she was thankful.

She had never done anything so irresponsible. She had always followed the rules, always been a prototype of excellence among the padawans...but who knew that breaking the Code could feel so _good_?

She didn't know what to think. All she knew was what she was feeling – and right now, her feelings were rushing at lightspeed.

Grabbing his buzzed head, she pulled him to her lips and he met them with voracity. As she peered over his shoulder, slick with beads of sweat, she visibly flinched. Her eyes lingered for only a moment on the footlocker at the base of the bunk, and the kit of white armor striped with yellow that sat haphazardly atop it.

She tore her eyes away as the mass of muscle hovering above her persisted in his attack. She moved with him, fingers digging bruises into his back. For a moment, her vision wavered and she realized it was because – somewhere along the line – she had stopped breathing.

_My master would be so, so ashamed..._


	2. Chapter 2

When he'd first met them, he thought that the Jedi couldn't feel.

Looking back, that was a foolish thing to think, but at the time, he didn't know any better. His training on Kamino had led him to believe that the Jedi were mystical, infallible creatures who always did the right thing. Their orders were to be followed without question because simple clones like himself couldn't possibly know better than a _Jedi._

He saw through that ruse quickly enough.

After months of assignments and missions, after months of sharing in the highs of victories and the lows of failures, after the horrors of war and the loss of comrades and the days consumed by nothing more than sweat and blood and the sour stench of death - he had come to learn that Jedi weren't incapable of feeling. No, it was just the opposite. Jedi were just as vulnerable to emotions as everyone else; sure, maybe they tried to control them more than others, but even they got it wrong sometimes. They could feel joy as well as sadness. They knew about love and anger as well as anyone. They knew about jealousy and anguish and doubt and_ betrayal_.

Betrayal. The word echoed in his mind, stinging like an old wound reopened. The mental floodgates that he had worked so desperately to keep locked were now open, and he flinched as the memories rushed in. Bracing large hands against the cool tile of the shower stall, his head sunk, icy water splashing against his neck and careening in plump rivulets down his face.

Chapped lips parted and he breathed out her name with a tremble.

He wasn't sure when she ceased to be "General Secura" and had instead become simply "Aayla." That was one thing about the Twi'lek – she never stopped surprising him. Even right until the end, she took him by surprise more than his treachery did her.

She hadn't said anything when Order 66 buzzed into his helmet and he and his boys had carried out their orders with the mechanical efficiency of a Clanker. She didn't cry out in pain, didn't curse them with her final breath as he surely would have done. She just...fell. Sudden streaks of blue brought the still air to life and she toppled to the jungle floor, spinning as the barrage of gunfire assaulted her delicate frame. And for just a moment her eyes found his and _only _his and she didn't need to open her mouth to communicate what she was thinking.

"_Bly? What are you doing? __**Bly**__?" _

He had given her an honorable and quick death, as any great warrior deserved.

But that didn't make him feel any better about it.

The soldier took a heavy breath, disorientation making his head spin. He twisted the nozzle as cold as it would turn, skin shivering even though his body felt as if it was burning.

"Six months." It had been _six_months since Order 66 – since the rise of the Galactic Empire - and still every time he lifted his rifle and put that damned bucket on his head he saw her pretty face, adorned with a confused grimace, flash momentarily in his T-visor. "It's time to pull yourself together, soldier."

He straightened, scowling, suddenly wishing for his armor. He could tuck himself away from the galaxy in that armor; he could go back to being just a number and a mask. He could go back to being a soldier with purpose, instead of..._this_.

_A broken man with nothing._

When he'd taken his armor off at the start of shore leave two days ago, it felt as if he'd torn away the only thing that was holding him together. It was a shell. It was safe. Standing here naked, he just felt vulnerable. He felt vulnerable and _weak._

He shook his head to rid himself of the thought, drops of water splattering the walls. Bly was a soldier, through-and-through. If he could survive a war, he could survive this. With effort, he could shove Aayla back into a proverbial strongbox and keep her hidden in the far corners of his mind.

He had to focus on the present, now. He had to figure this out. There was a half-naked Jedi sleeping in his bunk..._lying where Aayla should be..._

What was he going to do with her?

The better part of him hadn't been thinking very clearly last night – or, more accurately, _at all _– when he'd decided to knowingly let that Jedi infiltrator waltz into a nightclub filled with hundreds of soldiers that were celebrating the deaths of her friends. He wasn't thinking when he decided to brush off his duties in favor of enjoying his shore leave. He wasn't thinking when he allowed her to single him out, when he bought her a drink, and then another, and then countless more until suddenly he was on the dance floor..._dancing. _His hands found her hips infinitely more appealing than the green liquid sloshing in his cup and he discarded it immediately, enjoying the way her small frame pressed against his sturdy one, the way her lower-half gyrated in a uniquely pleasing way, and then...

_Kriff._

Still, what could she possibly have hoped to gain from romancing a few drunken troopers? He was off-duty. He'd done nothing wrong.

The guilt that tugged on the edges of his mind proved otherwise.

Stepping out of the refresher with a newfound resolve, Bly wiped at the foggy mirror with his palm and then gave it a determined stare. Serving the Republi- _kriff, _the _Empire_, was all Bly had ever known, and shore leave or not, he was going to turn that girl in.

He froze, realization hitting him like a brick of ice.

Infiltration wasn't her goal. She'd seduced him – specifically _him _– with a purpose.

"Shit."

...The datastick.

_Quick Little Author's Note: Hey! Thanks for reading. So we know who our mysterious Clone now is, but who's the Jedi girl? Oooh ;) Reviews are appreciated, of course =)_


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